


Dein Weg ist nicht mehr der meine

by IvyLili



Category: Cultist Simulator (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:01:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25980268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyLili/pseuds/IvyLili
Summary: Count Jannings joined the German Resistance in 1943.After the failure of Operation Valkyrie in 1944, the Exile - who has withdrawn from society after kiling their foe - went to Munich and tried to warn their old friend.
Kudos: 5





	Dein Weg ist nicht mehr der meine

**Author's Note:**

> The English version of https://archiveofourown.org/works/25508311

Dein Weg ist nicht mehr der meine, Teut...

-Karl Wolfskehl, 1933

I barely recognized him when I walked into his study.

His beard and hair were white as snow, and his face was deeply wrinkled by the years. Only those deep blue eyes behind the glasses still retained the calm gaze I once knew.

It was then that I suddenly realized that we hadn't seen each other for nearly two decades.

"What," he asked, "brings you here to me?"

I felt stung. He referred to me as " _Sie_ " as if I were a stranger to him. But I could still remember how he took out the shrapnels left by the reckoners in my body and bandaged my wounds in this very room. Does he no longer remember, or no longer miss the time we had together?

"I – I got some news," I lowered my voice and said hurriedly, "they are tracking down people associated with the _Schwarze Kapelle_ because of what happened in July."

He nodded. Not a single trace of fear or surprise was to be found on his face.

" _Dein_ name –" His gaze made me lower my eyes, " _Ihr_ name is also on their list of suspects. They think you have contact with Stauffenberg."

" _Schwarze Kapelle_?" He chuckled softly, "What an interesting name. But yes, I do know him very well. And I won't deny it if you call me his accomplice. I just regret not being able to do more."

"Then what are you doing here?" I almost yelled, "You must leave now!"

"No, I won't try to evade this anymore." He shook his head and cut me short in a gentle but indisputable tone. "I remained silent in 1933, and that became my greatest regret ten years later. – Of course, I know I probably could not change anything by myself at that time, but maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t think of myself as a coward if I broke the silence then.”

"How could you say that!" I blurted out. I remember clearly that in those thrilling, almost crazy days of the past, his sword had withstood countless attacks launched by the reckoners, and I never saw him getting even slightly afraid or tired.

He turned his eyes to a photo frame on the desk. "My son Heinrich and I were never close," he said, "he had always believed in the glory and superiority of the German people... He joined the army and told me that he would bring new honour to our family's coat of arms. I received his death notice last January."

I felt my throat dry. I have, in the last few years, refused to expose myself to any news related to the war, as if I could pretend that life was still going on as usual, as if I could forget that countless people die on the battlefield every day and forget the nightmares I witnessed in another war much earlier.

"And my students at the medical school," he continued, "they came back from the battlefield and wrote flyers calling for people to resist tyranny. Because of those flyers, they were taken away from the college, put on trial and killed. When I looked at those empty seats in the classroom and the laboratory, I could no longer bear to sit there and do nothing."

"But why do you let yourself be in this grave danger? Please, think about the Mansus, think about the Glory, and I – I still have some stolen years left, if you need them – "

He frowned when I mentioned the years from the Cindered Tally. Is that… disappointment in those ocean-blue eyes?

"Then tell me," his voice became harsher, "what have you done with that tally of yours in the last few years?"

I was at a loss of words. My face, reflected in his eyes, looked almost not a day older than it was twenty years ago.

"If what happened over these years has taught me anything," he did not seem to expect an answer from me and went on to speak, "it’s that a shelter does not exist. Neither the study in the Wake nor the invisible arts can give us an escape from the reality. Speak no more; I am ready to face my own destiny and share the destiny of my colleagues."

"But – " What should I say now? I knew I could not change his beliefs. Or rather, what right did I have to ask him to change his choice for my wish?

He sighed. "You’d better go," he said with an almost mocking tone. "It's not safe for you to stay here with me for too long."

I stood up. " _Auf Wiedersehen_ ," I said, trying my best to choke back my tears.

The calmness had, by then, already returned to his face. " _Leb wohl_ ," he answered after a moment of silence.

When I walked across the street, I saw a car stopping in front of the house I had just left. A group of soldiers got off that car with loaded guns.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this work is from the poem "Abgesang" by Karl Wolfskehl. The German Jewish poet lived in Munich in the early 20th century and was a good friend of Stefan George, but he was forced to leave Germany in 1933.  
> Speaking of Stefan George, it would be interesting if he was a Know, or even Jannings' senior in the invisible arts, since his poems are so... hard to understand (haha). And Jannings might have come into contact with Claus von Stauffenberg via George's circle in the late 1920s.  
> About the medical school of LMU Munich: many core members of the White Rose were medical students. Perhaps they wanted to heal not only the bodies of people, but also the ill era.  
> I guess I'm no longer writing about the character from the game anymore, but about my ideal imagination of an intellectual who lived in the first half of the 20th century. He might have hesitated, even compromised, but in the end he chose to face the reality, chose conscience and justice, and would not regret this choice even if it would cost him his own life.


End file.
